


All Star

by KlutzyMaiden123



Category: Shrek (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fairy Tale Parody, Fractured Fairy Tale, Road Trips, Teenagers, even if it's dreamworks, modern teenager, modern teenager in medieval times, oc pairing you guys, rapping, there wasn't an option for it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:43:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8359426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KlutzyMaiden123/pseuds/KlutzyMaiden123
Summary: "I mean, of ALL movies to be transported into, it had to be fucking Shrek the Third? Seriously? I mean, instead of The Avengers, Harry Potter, Star Wars - hell, even those dumb prequels - I'm stuck with some angsty teen with boo-hoo Daddy issues? Who the fuck even remembers Shrek the Third!"





	1. Picture This

**Author's Note:**

> I have NO idea why I wrote this. Honestly, I don't hate Shrek the Third as much as everyone else seems to (it ain't good, but I don't think it's necessarily BAD) and I always found myself fascinated with the character of Artie. I honestly would've liked to found out how he ruled Far, Far Away instead of watching Shrek throw away everything he loves because of a hissy fit. But alas, I'm not a writer for Shrek nor Dreamworks for that matter. 
> 
> Anyway, disclaimer: you know, I do not own the Shrek franchise, nor will I ever own it.
> 
> So, with that out of the way - enjoy the show, folks!

Picture this.

It's a Friday afternoon. Everyone you know is getting ready for a super awesome party that, although you weren't invited (which is beside the point), is about to commence in a few hours. And  _you're_  stuck in your room, grounded, finishing a shit tonne of homework. Why is this? Because, earlier today, your Mother was contacted by your school to notify her of your previous detentions you'd received on account of your apparent 'tardiness' or 'laziness' in class.

Specifically, math.

So, after receiving this little update, your mother decides to ground you until you've 'learnt to pick up your act and take school seriously', so, until then, that means no social outings and "most certainly none of those parties you've been going to!"

_Sigh._

In other words, the party that's  _tonight._  Not only that, but you have a major History assignment due on Monday, which you've barely  _started._

Sounds fracking peachy, doesn't it?

Oh, but you haven't even heard of the best part – the marvellous cherry on top! You see, after experiencing all of these delightful events in the past twenty-four hours, Mother dear has decided to abandon you to babysit your younger sister, Kay, and her group of (extremely loud) tween friends.

Ugh.

_Kill. Me. Now_.

I hate my life. I hate my family. I hate my stupid teacher. I hate my Principle. I hate maths. I hate  _everything._

Why did Mum have to have another child? Could she not just be satisfied with me as her only one? I mean, I'm funny, intelligent, kind and an absolute ball to be around!

Why'd she have to go and have Kay? Did she reach the (evidently true, I admit) conclusion that I was simply too good a person that she needed to even out the world's balance with Kay's evil? I mean,  _that_  I understood.

I should've known that, as soon as Mum decided to have a second child, I was, for lack of a better word, doomed. I mean, yeah, I wasn't the one who pushed Kay out (as Mother never let us forget, as if  _we_ were to blame for her decision to have children), but  _still_. My sister's existence was a curse placed on my own.

Evidently, in more ways then one.

You see, Kay already established herself as a thorn in my side early on in my life; she was an extreme show off, had a loud mouth and was  _way_  to snoopy for her own good (and mine). But, by the time my sister had turned thirteen, I knew I had fallen to a whole new level in Hell. Anyone with younger siblings should know what I'm talking about when I say that thirteen or fourteen were the most obnoxious of ages.

And what's worse? I was stuck in a house full of thirteen-year-olds.

Yeah, ain't that bad? I couldn't stand having my sister around, let alone six  _more_  of her.

And,  _of course,_  Mother-dear had  _left_ (although, I prefer the term 'abandoned') me to babysit Kay and her friends. Ugh, why was  _I_  the one stuck babysitting when, quite clearly, I was already busy working on my large mountain of homework and Mum was the, well,  _Mum?_  Simple. Mum obviously shared my train of thought and didn't want to be stuck in a house of screaming tweens. Of course, she didn't flat out tell me this to my face. No, she just made up some crappy excuse about there being some unavoidable parent-teacher interview thing at Kay's school.

. . . which, I suppose I would buy if, you know, she had perhaps taken  _Kay with her._

Puh-lease. I may not be the most advanced individual in an area such as Math, but  _lying_  I was not half bad at, especially detecting one as phoney as that. I know for a fact that she was out, drinking wine with her friends, watching  _Mamma Mia_  or something.

But, of course, Mum had to keep up appearances. She couldn't have the other mothers think her of as any less then a good, responsible mother. One that wouldn't just leave her eldest daughter to babysit her younger and friends. So, she more then likely appear early the next morning to greet the parents and pretend she hadn't run away, leaving her eldest daughter utterly defenceless.

Either way, I was stuck in this house with six screaming tweens until tomorrow. And, if I knew their parents, they wouldn't be getting picked up until tomorrow's afternoon.

_Yippee._

Of course, Mum hadn't specified that I had to remain in the same room as the brats, or that I even had to be anywhere near them. So, as a safety measure, I had taken the liberty of locking myself in my room.

And there I remained.

Still.

I was sat in front of my computer, searching for evidence that would prove unequivocally that Kirk and Spock were in some type of scandalous hush-hush romantic relationship. My legs were swung over the arm of my chair as I dug into a jar of peanut butter and jelly I'd stolen from the kitchen (and if Mum had a problem with that, then  _maybe_  she shouldn't leave me in charge). Faintly, I bobbed my head in sync with the beat of my music blasting from my bulky earphones.

Yeah, I know, I know – I should be working on my assignment. Well, I'm totally going to. I just have to take a teeny-weeny break is all. I had, after all, been working super hard on that math work Mr. Davis dumped on me. I swear, that guy just had it in for me.

Anyway, despite the bulkiness of my earphones, somehow I could  _still_  hear the squealing from down the hall. And take three fucking guesses as to whom those squeals were coming from.

_Fucking Christ._

I could myself swelling with irritation.

_Why_  did Mum decide to have another kid again?

Biting down on my spoon, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to focus on my music. " _But for me to rap like a computer must be in my genes_  
I got a laptop in my back pocket  
My pen'll go off when I half-cock it  
Got a fa-"

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

**That was it.**

Yanking the earphones from my head, I sprung from my desk, ripped open my door and stormed down the hallway. The squeals abruptly disappeared and I blinked, hand pausing around the door handle. But the sharp 'shh'ing that shortly followed told me that my descent down the hall had probably been heard.

I rolled my eyes. Were they even trying to be quiet?

Throwing open the door, my eyes fell onto the dirty victims. The girls – all six of them – were huddled on the couch, wrapped up in thick blankets. The tea table in front of them was littered with several bowls of various junk foods and pizza. A glaring beam of light burst from the TV on the far wall and hit each of the girls square in the face, illuminating their frightened features.

Crossing my arms across my chest, I scrunched up my face, mustering up the best 'Mum' look I could manage. You know, that look your mother gives you whenever you're in troubles that sent shivers down your spine as it wordlessly communicates just how fucked you are.

Yeah, that one.

At the ripe age of sixteen, I'm fairly certain that I'd figured that advanced calculations behind what formulates the look.

It was quite simple, really.

"Hey! What're you doin' in here, dumbass?"

I growled in irritation.

Turning to meet my sister's gaze, I almost jumped in fright. The key word there being  _almost_. Kay's steel gaze was fixed on my form and was so intense that it could send Wolverine running for the hills with his tail stuck between his legs. I hastily recomposed myself, as, unlike Wolverine at the current moment, I had appearances to upkeep.

Placing my fists onto my hips, I glared back at her, "Don't call  _me_  the dumbass, you dumbass!" I barked angrily. "I'm trying to study for my big History assignment but I can't hear myself bloody thinking over all y'all's bloody screamin'!"

They didn't need to know of my earlier distractions.

Kay mirrored my movements and placed her hands on her hips. "You're the dumbass!" She retorted back. "You're the one who puts off their assignment for so long! How's that  _our_  fault?"

I was about to give her a good yelling, when my eyes caught sight of the moving pictures plastered on the TV screen. I blinked, raising a brow, when I recognised those familiar visuals. "Uhh," my eyes remained focused on the screen, "why the fuck are you weirdos watching  _Shrek?_ "

Like, alright, I didn't have a problem with the movie in general (currently, it was the first one they were watching). In fact, I recently re-watched the movie for nostalgic purposes (and, yeah, I admit, I cried close to seven times) and found myself enjoying it quite a bit.  _But_  it seemed odd that my idiotic sister would watch it for a sleepover. I mean, Shrek was, in no shape or form, a sleepover movie, especially among teen girls. No, what  _was_  a sleepover movie was something like  _10 things I hate about you,_ or  _Legally Blonde_ (only the first one, of course) or  _Mean Girls_  or  _The Heathers_  or any good chick flick.  _Shrek_  on the other hand? Yeah, not on the top of the list for any of  _my_ sleepovers.

Kay's eyes softened when she glanced back to the screen. My jaw almost dropped as, for a moment, Kay almost looked like her younger self. You know,  _before_  she turned, ugh,  _thirteen._  Her lips tugged upwards into a smile that seemed both shy and sweet. However it was gone almost instanteously, and, looking back at me, her eyes were narrowed. "Because," she began, sticking her nose into the air, "we're having a Shrek marathon."

My eyes widened. "No way – what, you mean  _all_ of them?"

"Yeah, idiot," Kay rolled her eyes. "That's what a  _movie marathon_ means."

My jaw dropped. They were watching  _all_  the Shrek movies? Why the fuck would they do  _that?_  Aside from the first and second, they were bloody awful.

One of Kay's friends – Sarah, I think – giggled, her heart-shaped face peeking out from underneath her pink blanket. "Yeah, we're gonna binge watch the shit out of 'em!"

I cringed. Did she really have to cuss like that?

. . .  _what?_  I use it cause of my age.  _She's_ practically a kid. It's disturbing as fuck.

However that was not the current issue here. "You do realise," I began, casting them all a slow, cautious glance, "that the Shrek movies include  _Shrek the_  fucking  _Third_  and  _Shrek Forever After_ , which are both bloody shite."

Claire grinned, reaching across Sarah for a slice of pizza. "Don't forget the specials."

Oh, dear Lord. Someone help these poor girls.

Kay snorted. "Good thing  _you_ ," she gave me an especially ugly look on the last word, "don't have to watch 'em,  _sis_ , if you despise them so much."

_Why, that little . . ._

Screwing up my face, I replicated my mum's look.  _I_  was the babysitter here, along with the eldest and intelligent. The mum look oughta remind her that.

I ran the formula over in my head.

_Clamp mouth shut, tilt head, purse lips, cross arms, frown–_

Kay paused, scanning my face in confusion, before frowning as apparently the dots began connecting in her mind. "Oh my God," the look on her face was one of horror. "You look like you're seriously constipated."

Sarah also gave me a confused look. "Uhh, Drew, why's your face look like that?"

Beside her, Michelle giggled. "You look like a pug!"

. . . okay, apparently, my mum look was not yet perfected.

Ignoring the heat in my cheeks, I spun around and headed for the door. "N-No reason," I paused, suddenly remembering why I was here the first place. "Seriously serious time though," I spun around to face the huddle girls, gripping onto the door frame. "I actually need to study for this assignment. And you know what that's gonna require?  _Silence._  S-I-L-E-N-C-E. The absence of noise and, especially, distractions. SAAAAAAAIIILLLLLEEEEEENNN–"

Kay's flat palms pressed up against my shoulders as she shoved me out of the room. The little brat must've gotten up mid-way through my warning of my dilemma, the rude child. Honestly does she have  _no_ manners?

"Okay, okay,  _alright,_ " Kay frantically nodded as she pushed me out the door. "We get it – can we just resume our sleepover, and, more specially, our  _fun_ , please?"

"H-Hey! Wait a minute– Kay!" My attempts of fighting against her were – embarrassingly – completely futile. Damn, for someone so young and annoying, this girl had  _quite_  the strength. And  _I_  was the one with the black belt, too.

She eventually managed to get me out of the room completely. Gripping the door handle, Kay sent me a sugary-sweet smile and waved. "Buh-bye now, sister  _dear!_ "

**SLAM!**

_Well, I never!_

_Never_  have  _I_  been so rudely treated in my life! I mean, she just kicked me out of my own living room! And  _I_  was the one who was supposed to babysit her and her dumb tween friends.

Speaking of which, I could hear loud giggling from the other side of the door.

_Those brats!_

"You little hooligans!" I hollered, stamping my foot. I don't care how childish it appeared, it's not like anyone was here to witness it. May I remind you that any potential witnesses were on the  _other_  side of the door, which had just been slammed  _shut_  in my face.

My blood boiled when their petty giggles dissolved into full blown laughter. So, I simply imagined their dumb, laughing faces were painted on the door and threw a particularly forceful kick.

"Owowowowowowowowowowowowwwwwwww!"

Of course, I hadn't realised that that would actually hurt. Not until a throbbing pain suddenly flared up from my painted toes to my knee. I cried out in pain and clutched tightly onto my injured leg, hopping up and down on the other. Which, by the way, does nothing to relieve oneself of one's pain. You know, for future reference.

Eventually, I managed to calm myself enough to finally clearheadedly ("FUCK OU THEN, YOU LITTLE MONSTERS!") and return to my room. Slamming the door with extra force for good measures, of course.

I let out a loud groan and flung myself onto my bed, pulling the covers over my head.  _Ugh, I hate my life. I hate my family. I hate my stupid teacher. I hate maths. I hate that dumb party. I hate that I can't show off my new crop top. I hate that that package of makeup I ordered a_ month  _ago that still hasn't shown up. I hate that dumb alpaca that spat on me when I'd only being trying to become friends with it. Lord only knows why it's salvia was lime-green._

I don't know how long I laid there feeling sorry for myself. But eventually I was pulled from my monologuing by a familiar ringing from my back pocket.

" _Shot through the heart_  
And you're to blame  
Darlin'  
You give love a bad name."

I groaned. I was  _so_  not in the mood for chats right now.

Pulling it out, I let out a short breath of relief when I read Carly's name on the screen. Well, I was  _so_ not in the mood for chats right now to  _most_  people. Carly, on the other hand, was a completely different story. " _An angel's smile is what you sell,_ _  
_ _You promise me heaven, then put me through–"_

"Ehhhhhh, amigo!"

"Ehhhhhhh, dude!"

I grinned cheekily. "Howza doin', me wonderful amigo?"

Carly giggled on the other end. "Awesome sauce, dude. Just getting' ready for Matt's biggie tonight."

Aaaaand there goes the grin.

Wow, way to remind me of what I'm  _not_ gonna enjoy tonight, Carls. "Yeah? Awesome."

I don't think Carly heard my dry tone. That or she ignored it. Because she continued anyway. "We've bloody been here since four this afternoon and Sammy  _just_ got out of the shower. Fucking germaphobe, aye?"

I could faintly hear Sammy arguing with her in the background. "Hey, I resent that Carls! Can't help it if I, unlike someone else, enjoy being clean–"

"Anyway, Drew," Carly interrupted quickly with a grin (I could practically  _hear_  it through the phone). "Matt's party was what I wanted to talk to you about."

Gee,  _thanks,_  Carl. I  _love_ being reminded of the fun I'll miss out on.

Carly continued talking, babbling on about her and Matt's little occurrence today in Science, but I didn't bother listening. I was too deep in my own thoughts – and cursing the existence of my mother and sister. Man, those two could be so overbearing. I wish I could get away for a little bit. I mean, the party would be a great way to escape, even just for a few hours. I'd dress up, make myself look amazingly awesome, dance the night away with my friends, flirt with cute boys (and believe me, Matt is friends with  _quite_ a few of them) and get so drunk I couldn't stand straight.

Man, do I wanna go.

"–so whaddya think, then? You comin'?"

"Huh?"

I must've accidentally zoned out her entire story. Oops, my bad. I didn't mean to, honest. Just a  _little_  of it. It's not that I don't love her, but Carly's stories have a tendency to go on a little longer than necessary. She was a complete motor mouth, to be honest. She has an English accent though, so I forgive her for it.

"You were zoning me out again, weren't ya?" Well, she definitely raised an eyebrow. That I could feel. "Damnit, Drew! You know I hate it when you do that!"

I shot her a cheesy grin, though she couldn't see it. "Soz, Carls."

"Wipe that shite-eating grin off your face and listen – I think you're gonna like this story," she snapped. Ouch, Carly could be kinda harsh when she wanted to be. And how'd she know about my shite-eati– I mean, my grin? "So, anyway, I was sitting in Science today, listenin' to Mrs. Johnson babble on about genetic structures of something or rather, when – actually, I was  _pretending_ to listen. Because, I'm sorry, but quite frankly I  _cannot_  for the life of me, pay attention to a  _word_  that woman is saying when there is, like, a giant caterpillar just lying on her cupid's bow.  _Mercy_ , has that woman  _ever_ heard of waxing? Waxing your moustache is nothing to be ashamed of, y'know. I mean, my mum knows this girl–"

See what I mean? Total motor-mouth.

I rolled my eyes.

"Carly, focus – focus!" For extra emphasis, I snapped my fingers in the mouth piece.

Carly cleared her throat sheepishly. " _Right._ Anyway, so, long story short, because Mrs. Johnson talks – a lot – I was able to sneak in a small convo with Matt. And, bottom line, I got you invited – girl, you are fucking  _coming_  to the party! I got you an invite!"

I was off my bed before Carly could even finish her sentence and bouncing on my toes. "Oh my GOSH – NO WAY! _No way!_ Carly, I fucking love you, you poofy haired, wonderful woman!"

"I know, I'm amazing– hey, I resent that name," she quickly backtracked. But, in a friendlier tone, she continued. "So, do you want Sammy and I to drop in and pick ya up, hon?"

I knew I loved Carly for a reason. That little curled-haired, crazy woman was my saviour. I'd been  _dying_ to go to Matt's party, but I could never bring myself to ask him during class. That, and I was currently grounded and stuck babysi–

_Oh._

"Sorry, Carls," I apologised, the earlier enthusiasm lost and replaced with a large wave of disappointment. "But I'm stuck babysitting. I can't make it."

Of  _all_  weekends in existence, it just  _had_  to be  _this_  one that I was grounded. Gee, what luck I must have tucked under my skirt.

"What?!" Carly screeched. "You're stuck  _what_? Ugh, you siri?"

"Totes, bro," I shrugged, though she most definitely couldn't see the gesture. "I'm stuck babysitting Kay and her stupid friends because of their dumb timing."

But I don't think Carly heard any of that.

"–you fucking kidding me? After all that – me risking my  _neck_  to talk to Matt, possibly coming across as rude and all – and it's all for freakin'  _nothing?_  How mother effin' convenient! I mean,  _seriously?_  Of  _all_ weekends in existence?"

Tell me about it, Carls.

"Sorry, Carls," I sighed, throwing myself back onto my bed. I propped my feet atop of my cushions and leaned back against the wall. "But enjoy the party for me, yeah?" I tried to sound happy for her. After all, she and Sammy could go and still have fun. And Carly obviously did try. It wasn't her fault my luck was in the shits right now. Who was I to sound ungrateful to my best friend?

"Oh no, girlfriend – uh-uh. No, we are  _not_ having that," she protested. "Not after the potential humiliation I could've suffered. Nuh-uh. Girl, get ready cause you're coming with us tonight."

"Bro, you know I'd love to," I responded, somewhat confused. Did Carly somehow manage to forget the part where I was both grounded  _and_ babysitting? Not even she had that crap of a memory. "But Mum said–"

"Forget what Mum said," Carly forcefully interrupted. "Look, I'm not gonna go to this mega awesome and obviously amazing party while my best friend sulks in her room all night and babysits a bunch of twelvies. No thanks, sweetie, but that's not how this girl works!"

Well, I had also planned on getting through some episodes of Game of Thrones, but she essentially had guess my entire night.

"Thanks, Carls, but if you haven't realised, I have no way of actually getting to the party," I pointed out.

Carly snorted, as if she already had thought of that. "That's alright, girl, Sammy and I can just drive by and pick you up and take you back to mine to dump all of your shit," she explained, almost smugly. "Then you can quickly get ready and we can head on to the party."

"So, your plan is for me to sneak out, have you take me to your house, get ready, go to the party then return before any of the brats notice?" I asked flatly. I'm not gonna lie, half of me was already convinced, despite how flimsy the plan was.

"Yup," Carly answered, obviously proud of her absolutely 'genius' plan. God, I could just picture her now, sticking her nose happily into the air. "We can pick you up at eight. Would you be ready by th–?"

"Yes," I answered instantly. Hell if I was gonna spend the night stranded at the mercy of a bunch of tweens. No way, I was gonna party like I've never partied before. "Definitely. So, eight?"

"Eight," Carly confirmed.

I couldn't stop the gigantic grin from spreading across my lips. "Awesome, then. Buh-bye, Carls!"

"Seeya, Drew!"

And with that, I disconnected the call and let loose a high-pitched squeal. Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I clutched the phone tightly in my hands. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes,  _yes!"_  Bless whoever was suddenly looking out for me! Guess who was gonna get drunk off her face tonight? . . . Actually, Carly was, now that I think about it. But it was gonna be  _I_  that would join her!

Ah man, it'd been awhile since I'd gone to a party. The last one I could remember had been at least a few months ago. School had been a bitch lately so no one was free enough to throw or go to a party. But  _now_  that most of our assignments were handed in . . .

Ahem, well,  _most_  of our assignments, anyway.

Switching on my phone, I checked the time.

**7:06pm.**

. . .

. . .

. . .

Mother of Dragons!

My hands flew up – my phone flying from my grasp over my shoulder – and my fingers threaded through my messy hair. I let out another squeal. "Crap!" I cursed in full volume. I flinched, realising  _how_ loudly I'd been and quickly covered my mouth. My eyes shot to my closed door as, for a brief moment, I envisioned Kay standing in front of it, giving me the eyeball.

Counting to ten in my head, I removed my hands from my mouth and let out a slow sigh. "Okay, so I've got an hour to shower, pick an outfit and pack." I listed to myself. Not only that, but I'd have to sneak out without being caught by the girls, specifically my sister. My sister being the girl with the loudest voice and loosest lips known to man. That little booger, I knew, would rat me out to Mum and that woman would raise  _hell_  in her fury. I loved Mum, but she was downright  _murderous_  when she was angry. So, I'd have to be extra careful not to get caught.

Stepping over various dirty clothes covering my carpet, I marched to my wardrobe. Sliding open the door, I placed a hand to my waist and tapped a finger to my chin. "Hmm, what to wear, what to wear . . ."

* * *

**7:56pm**

I gritted my teeth in frustration.

"Alright, kid," I growled, eyeing the oddly-shaped bag sat on my bed. "We can do this one of two ways – the easy way, or the  _hard_  way. Personally, I highly recommend the former."

However, despite my words of wisdom, it refused to submit.

The zipper refused to pull the bag's mouth shut.

"C'mon," I grunted, giving several harsh tugs in an attempt to force the zipper along my duffle bag. But, like before, it didn't obey.

Throwing my head back, I let out a dramatically loud groan. Placing one hand to my hip, I pointed a threatening finger in the bag's direction, levelling it a particularly nasty look. "Now, look here–"

Something vibrated on my butt and I jumped. Sitting up from the bag, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.

**Were here. Where u at, gurl?**

I rolled my eyes.

Of course, I should've known Carly would get here early. For as clumsy as that girl was, she sure was punctual. Which, with this bag, was more then I could say about me.

I quickly sent her back a reply, explaining I would be out there soon.

I turned back to the irregularly shaped bag. My eyes narrowed to slits, "I hate to admit it," my voice was deep with regret, heavy with horror. "But it looks like we're gonna have to do this the–" I gave a shudder "– _hard_ way."

Agitation was thriving through in veins, but never made it to my skin. My heart was hammering in my ears as I curled my sweating fingers into shaking fists. I didn't want to do this, I really had hoped it would never come to something like this–

Still, I was a woman of her word. If I said something was to happen, it sure as hell was. Even something as cruel as  _this_ –

I groaned. We all have to make sacrifices at some point in our lives. Some of greater importance than others. Clearly, this was mine.

Mustering up any strength I could grasp onto, I reached out a pale, shaking hand towards said bag. Letting loose a chilling breath, I forced myself to take out my black mesh ankle high peep toe stiletto boots. Placing them back in my wardrobe, I heaved forth another sigh. I'd paid so much for those shoes and now it looks like I'd have to sacrifice them for the evening. Oh, Khalessi, does thou not know of the unjust cruelty she has placed upon my name?

However, without those last pair of shoes, I managed to successfully zip my bag shut.

_Score!_

Swinging the oversized bag onto my shoulder, I turned my speakers on full blast. I was tempted to watch the entirety of the episode, but, with a shake of my head, reminded myself of the bigger picture here.

_You'll be able to watch it tomorrow . . ._

Closing the door as quietly as humanly possibly (not that it, in the long run, really mattered, given how loud the speakers were), I tip-toed down the hall, humming Mission Impossibly under my breath.

An overwhelming surge of pride hit me as I passed the closed door to the living room. I mean, those brats in there were so occupied with themselves that they didn't even realised I was sneaking out. Oh yeah, how badass am I to successfully leave undetected?

. . . in fact, they seem a little  _to_  occupied in there. And quiet.  _Way_  to quiet.

I stopped dead in my tracks, turning back to the door. Now that I thought about it, I couldn't hear a  _thing_ from in there. Considering how loud their screaming was not a few minutes ago, this was seriously weird. Had they fallen asleep? No, definitely not. I mean,  _who_  falls asleep before eight at a sleepover?  _Especially_ screaming thirteen-year-olds.

Sorry, but that just don't add up.

So, I regret to inform you, but I didn't just shrug it off nonchalantly and continue sneaking out. No,  _that_  would've been much to easy. Of course, with my nagging curiosity, I decided to just quickly check on them. So, twisting the door handle, I slipped my body in between the small gap to scan the area.

_Huh_.

Apparently they  _had_  fallen asleep.

My eyebrows shot up as I gawked at the sleeping bodies that belonged to the young teens. They all lay in an entanglement of limbs with their fluffy blankets draped lazily over their sleeping bodies. Geeze, I didn't think the Shrek movies were  _that_  boring.

Then, my eyes caught onto something in particular.

I sighed in frustration.

The idiots had left the TV on, which displayed a fuzzy, grey blur. Groaning, I smacked my forehead. Seriously, they couldn't have turned it off  _before_  all falling asleep?

Whatever. I'll turn it off.  _Then_  I'll leave.

Stepping over the numerous chip and candy packets (Mum was gonna throw an absolute  _cow_  when she got back tomorrow), I made my way over to the screen. My eyes caught sight of the open  _Shrek the Third_  DVD case on the table. I snorted to myself, no wonder they'd fallen asleep. I couldn't exactly blame then if  _this_  movie was involved.

Reaching forward, I went to turn off the TV, when–

I gasped.

–it felt as if a door had been opened up in my mind. Tingles ran up and down my arms and underneath my skin. My stomach sunk into the pit of my soul as my heart raced frantically against my rib cage. I gasped again as new sensations danced along my body.

Holy shit, what was happening?

It felt as if my insides had been replaced with a black hole. Spots began clouding my vision. Nausea crept along my mind as the world began spinning very, very violently. And, let me tell you, I have a weak stomach, so the urge to vomit was  _very_  tempting. Something wrapped around my ankle and I found myself falling. Before my head met the ground, only one though ran through my mind.

_Kay, what the_ fuck  _did you do?_


	2. Drusilla, Art Thou Feeling Well?

Have you ever just wanted to die?

Okay, wow, that was a tad bit overdramatic. Sorry, let me rephrase that. Have you ever wanted to just take a pair of garden shears, use their sharpened edges to pull out your brain, chuck it to the ground and dance on it whilst screaming, "DING DONG THE FUCKING WITCH IS DEAD"?

No?

Well, clearly you haven't had a hangover then.

Oh, excuse me, let me rephrase that: clearly you haven't suffered at the cruel mercy of long, barbed nails clawing at your skull, or had a convulsing pain tearing at your ears, or had the pleasure of feeling as if your brain was three sizes to big for your head and was sure to soon explode.

Otherwise known as a hangover.

At least,  _this_ hangover.

Honestly, it was more then a little odd that currently I felt like I was slowly dying from the inside, when I could hardly remember drinking last night. Hell, I could barely remember  _anything_ last night. Indeed, I must've drank quite a bit. My head felt as if someone had taken a pair of ice picks, tied them to their shoes, stepped straight into my brain and was currently performing a rendition of the conga.

I wanted to slap myself. I'll admit, not remembering a previous night's events as a result of my binge-drinking was hardly a rare occurrence, however normally I could remember  _something_ of significance, even if it were just the flavour of chips I had consumed, or how smudged my makeup was, or a random song lyric to the music I was dancing my heart out to. Given my lack of memory, I assumed I had begun drinking before I had even arrived last night, as I didn't even remember saying 'hi' to Carls or Sammy . . . just how much  _had_ I had to drink last night?

"Gwen, have thou seen my hairbrush?"

The unfamiliarly feminine voice sent another raw ripple of pain tearing at my temples and I let out a low groan from the back of my throat. Keeping my eyes squeezed shut, I wrapped my arms around my head in an attempt to block out the noise.

"Why would  _I_  have thine's hair brush, Tiffany? I have my own."

Good lord, it felt as if they were screeching hyenas! I mean, they weren't yelling or anything, but from the stabbing sensation in my skull, you'd most certainly think they were.

"Then, whence is–?"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Tif, it appears I possess it. I must have forgotten to give it back."

There was shuffling.

"Tis quite alright, Ally."

I could feel my patience with them – these  _girls_  – running thin. Burying my face deeper into my pillow (which, by the way, did not feel quite as fluffy as I would've preferred), I turned on my other side and curled into a ball. The overwhelming feeling of nausea was making it extremely hard to pass up urge to vomit, and right now all I wanted was more rest.

Scrunching my face, I tried falling back to sleep.

"Hath Drew awaken?"

I wanted to cry.

_Seriously?_

There was more shuffling. This time louder.

"Should we waken her? We've only a few minutes before breakfast finishes and classes begin . . ."

"But dost thou not know how much she despises when we waken her?"

"Be it so, however thou must remember she equally despises missing her breakfast."

There was a pause.

"Fine. Then  _thou_ must waken her."

"What? Thou cannot be serious!"

I groaned, pulling the itchy blanket over my head, relinquishing the dark warmth. Could they just piss off?

I felt a hand shake my shoulder. "Drew. Dreeeeeew. Dreeeeeeew – cometh, thou must awaken. Breakfast shall end shortly and thou aren't even properly dressed!"

The hand on my shoulder was beginning to bug me, so I poked my hand out from under the quilt to slap it away. Before my hand could return back to my nesting ground, my wrist was suddenly snatched by another hand. "Cometh, Drew," this voice, although fair sounding, was harsher, with not quite as much patience, "halt your foolery. Wait any longer and classes shall begin without us."

Good God, who the hell talked like that?

I tried tugging on the hand wrapped around my wrist, but it was like iron and refused to let go. I groaned again, this time louder, as I squished my face further into my pillow. "Go away," I moaned, though I'm quite sure it came out muffled. However, I hardly gave a fuck, as my brain felt as if it were going to swell beyond the capacity of my skull.

"No."

Suddenly, my only protection against the outside world was gone as the blanket was ripped from my body. Sharp beams of light pierced between my eyelids as the throbbing pain only tore further. The grip on my wrist was gone as I quickly wrapped both my arms around my head. Shifting as far away from the sun, I let out a loud hiss and squeezed my eyes shut.

"Oh, cometh  _now_ , Drew."

Could these girls not tell that I simply did not  _want_ to get up? My head was killing, my throat felt like sandpaper, my stomach was lurching and I was  _beyond_ tired. There was no way in hell's drug induced nightmares that I was gonna drag myself out of this bed, just to go to classes–

Hey.

Wait a minute.

My eyes flew open.

Then promptly shut as another hiss escaped my cracked mouth. Ugh, fuck me, as if my headache weren't bad enough.  _Now_ I was temporarily blinded from the colourful, flashing spots belonging to the sun's stupid rays streaming through the windows. Oh, woe is me, what did I do to deserve a hangover as horrific as this?

Somehow, after a few short, quiet seconds, I managed to sit myself up from my curled position. From the uncontained giggles around me, I could safely deduct that my hair had taken it's classic Wolverine stance again.

I sighed. Like I really needed bed-hair right now.

Slowly, I managed to open my eyes. Blinking at the blurry vision, I looked to my right, where the giggles had come from.

I gasped–

and had a heart attack.

. . . okay, okay. So I'm exaggerating a  _tad._ Technically, I didn't  _really_ have an exact 'heart attack' per se. But, I may as well have; I mean – who the hell were these people?

Four girls, all dressed similarly in navy shades of blue, long-sleeved dresses, stood next to my bed, blinking owlishly at me. I'm sorry, but have you ever experienced the delight of waking up to a ridiculously painful hangover only to find yourself surrounded by complete and utter strangers? It's not exactly something I would volunteer tribute for.

The tallest of them, with light brunette hair piled at the top of her head, smirked at me, tilting her head to the side in a teasing manner. "Well, someone looks ever so tired, huh?"

My mouth fell open. That girl . . . she looked familiar.

The girl next to her, the second smallest, had jaw-length black hair and pale skin. She smiled kindly at me, placing her hands on her knees and bending to my height. "Gracious, Drew, what time did thou end up sleeping last night?"

I . . . had no idea how to respond to that. "Huh?"

Who the hell were these girls?

. . . and why were they talking so weird?

The blonde girl next to her placed a hand delicately to her mouth, giggling. "Oh, Drew, what are we ever going to do with thou?"

. . . what the hell was going on here? Why were these girls acting as if they knew me? I most certainly don't remember meeting them.

. . . unless . . . don't tell me . . . I did the –  _gulp_ –  _nasty_ last night.

. . . with  _them._

If possibly, my jaw dropped lower as an unsettling feeling struck my stomach.

No . . . no.  _No._ No way did I end up doing  _that_ last night. There was  _no way_ I was  _that_ drunk. True, I couldn't remember a thing, but  _still._ I'm fairly certain I would remember something such as  _that._ Especially if  _that_ involved  _four girls._

No. Of course not.  _That_ most certainly did not happen last night. It couldn't. Carly and I both made an equally sober pact – we would never allow the other to make stupid mistakes, such as  _this,_ whilst intoxicated. Carly may be, well,  _weird,_  but she would never allow me to even consider the thought. Especially with several  _girls_.

I was almost convinced. Until, I realised with a pale-faced horror, that if  _I_  had gotten so drunk last night that I couldn't remember a thing, then Lord only  _knows_  how drunk Carly had gotten. Drunk enough to  _let_ me go with a bunch of girls, that's for certain. Carly was, after all,  _much_ more of a lightweight then I. Additionally, she always drank more then I did.

I could feel the blood draining from my face. D–Don't tell me that I–

The tall brunette's face was suddenly inches from my own, squinting in concern. "Drew, is thou well? Thou is appearing ever so pale . . ."

I blinked.

Then, like a pistole, sprung from the bed, stumbling ever so slightly. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" I landed on the other side of the mattress, holding up my hands as if I were taming a wild animal. The girls jumped in surprise and exchanged worried looks. "Personal space, dude!  _Per_ -sonal SPACE."

The smallest of them all, with shoulder-length brunette hair, rose a brow at me. " _Dude?_ "

I frowned. The way she pronounced 'dude' was as if it were an alien language that she had never heard of . . . well, of course  _no one_ had really heard of an alien language, so that second half of that statement was a tad bit reduna–

_Not the problem here._

Dragging my attention from the confused looks that each of the girls were giving me, I tried focusing on the teeny-tiny complication of just  _where the fuck I was._  Looking wildly in all directions, I tried looking for any sense of familiarity of this room. But, I realised with dread, I couldn't sense any. Familiarity, that is.

Not one single aspect rang any bell.

The average-looking room was circular in size. There were five four-postered beds in total pushed up against the plain walls. Velvet curtains hung from the posters and, at the foot of each of the beds, were trunks. I kid you not,  _trunks._  Who the hell used  _trunks_ nowadays?

My eyes widened when I spotted the oh-so glorious sightings of a door. Now, I didn't know what was  _behind_  said door, but I had a feeling it contained my exit. And, even if it didn't, at  _least_ it would lead me farther away from these crazy girls.

Good lord, I grimaced at the thought.  _Girls._  I hadn't even been aware that I swung that way. Intoxicated, at least.

The taller brunette crossed her arms, scrutinising me from head to toe. "Uh, Drew, what on earth art thou wearing?"

I frowned and turned back to them in question. In various states of shock, they each gawked openly at my clothing. Raising a brow, I followed their gazes and looked at the clothes I had decided to wear last night. Hmm, what was  _wrong_  with what I was wearing? I personally thought it was cute – a black mini skirt and a cropped grey jumper. Now, I was no professional matchmaker, however I knew, for a fact, that heels were not in any shape or form smart to pair with alcohol, so instead I had opted for a of black, ankle-high boots. So, not to toot my own horn, but I thought what I currently wore was extremely eye-catching. Not that they seemed to agree, of cours–

Wait a minute.

Hold the phone.

I was wearing  _clothes_.

As in, I wasn't  _naked_.

I looked back to the girls standing in front of me; their horrified eyes were glued to my skirt, so they didn't take noticed as I scanned what they themselves were wearing.

Yup, they too were wearing clothes. Well, actually considering they were already up, I guess that mattered very little.

 _But_ I was wearing clothes, which meant I hadn't done –  _shudder – that_ last night. Otherwise, I would've woken naked, or at least scantily clad, which, despite their looks, I was not.

I let loose a relieved breath. "Thank God," I muttered with a smile, shoulders slumping forward as if they'd been holding a large weight.

Still, my wearing clothes didn't exactly explain what I was currently doing here. Hell, it didn't even explain where  _here_ was.

"Oh, my goodness, Drew," the black-haired girl's hands flew to cover her mouth, her large eyes stuck on my skirt's hem. "Thy– thou– how horribly indecent!"

I quirked a brow.  _Indecent?_

"Honestly, Drew," the blonde beside her gripped the girl's shoulder and looked at me with frightened, yet disappointed eyes. "From whence did thou acquire something so horribly revealing? The whorehouse?"

I felt my jaw drop at the girl's blunt (and, quite frankly, unfair) accusation. Just  _what_ was she implying?

"Uh,  _no,_ " I stuttered, blinking. "Um,  _H &M, _actually."

The blonde narrowed her eyes, confused. "H and– excuse me?"

I blinked. Again.  _Please_  tell me she knew what that was.

"More importantly," the short brunette looked so horrified that I actually thought she would faint, " _why_  art thou wearing it?"

. . . what the hell were they going on about? Had they never seen a mini skirt before?

The tall brunette met my gaze with an oddly perturbed look, her shapely eyebrows knitting together. "Drew . . . dost this have anything to do with, erm,  _Lancelot?_ "

Once again, I was the victim of several pairs of eyes. This time however had nothing to do with my skirt. Well, I assumed.

"Uhh . . ." I looked at each of their faces, meeting four identical looks of pity. What the hell? I don't even know what I had done to deserve their pity! And who the hell was Lancelot? Who named their kid  _Lancelot_  nowadays? Poor kid. "No?"

The brunette pursed her lips. "Cometh now, Drew, there's no sense in denying it. We are all aware of thou's feelings, and– not that we blame thou– but, well –"

"Okay," I interrupted, holding up my hands defensively. I've just about had enough of this weirdness. I had no idea who these people were and, honestly, I didn't really want to. I had  _no_ idea what I'd done last night, nor did I care. Frankly, I had bigger fish to fry. "I don't have a single freakin' clue what any of y'all are talking about, so how about I cut this short, yeah? Right. So, where am I and where can I get a hold of a taxi?"

_Or the wi-fi, for that matter._

The only responses I received were odd looks.

Instead of answers, they each exchanged worried looks. Looks that suggested they were worried for  _my_ sanity. Imagine that! They were worried for  _me!_  Just what type of cuckoo for cocoa puffs farm did I stumble into last night?

"Tac- _see?_  Drew, what is that?" The black-haired girl parroted the word clumsily, as if she were speaking another language.

"And," the smaller brunette placed her hands on her hips, her eyebrows knitting together, "why art thou speaking so oddly?"

My eyes widened.  _I_  was talking  _oddly_? "You're n–not seriously serious, are ya?"

The tall brunette and black-haired girl both exchanged distraught looks, then turned back to me. "Drew, art thou feeling well?"

The black-haired girl spoke to me in the most insultingly patronising voice (as if  _I_  were the stupid one), with a sugary-sweet smile. I frowned, it was as if she were talking to a mentally unstable person. Which, as a matter of fact, I happened to not be. If anything,  _they_ were. Who the hell didn't know what a taxi was? Or acted so horrified upon seeing someone wearing a mini skirt?

She tried stepping closer to me, around the bed, but I quickly backpedalled away. Realising how uncomfortable I was, she halted, turning to her feet sheepishly. "M–Must we take thou to Madam Ainsley?"

Okay, now I'm feeling annoyed. They were treating me as if I were mentally incapable or something. "Okay, listen, I have  _no_  idea who that is – hell who  _any_ of you are – so just point me to the closest exit, and I promise, I'll get outta y'all's hair, kay? Geeze. And  _stop_ looking at me like that."

There it was again. Those pitying looks, mixed in with a pinch of confusion and a touch of caution. They were making me feel as if I were the crazy one.

The taller brunette however looked more peeved then anything. "Alright, that is it. We have to take thou to Madam Ainsley."

I groaned, smacking a hand to my forehead. Fat load of help  _they_ were.

Obviously, they weren't gonna be helping me in this situation. There wasn't any point in staying here much longer, so I opted to just leave and spun to face the door. Before I could take another step, one of them called out to me, "Wait! Drew, to whither art thou going?"

I didn't bother looking back. I didn't even bother stopping in my tracks. I just kept heading for the door. "Away from  _you,_ " I snapped, more then done with this scene. "And  _home_."

"Tarry, Drew, for thou cannot go out wearing  _that!_ "

I swear, if they say  _one_ more thing about my clothes, I'd–

I suddenly became aware of the footsteps following me and knew they were about to break into a run.

No,  _no way_ were they going to kidnap and infect me with their craziness.

So, heart racing frantically, I ran.

I could hear a shuffle of quickened footsteps following and knew they were chasing after me, if the frantic calls of my name were anything to go by. But, I didn't acknowledge it, because I was  _not_ staying a second longer with those weirdos.

Muttering a curse, I frantically pushed the hair from my face as I ran blindly down the halls, taking random turns, without any idea of where I was going. Several times I almost bumped into several shocked, sometimes disgusted, faces, but I hardly gave a fuck as I was slightly busy concentrating on the group of crazy girls following me. Granted, they weren't fast and kept tripping over the skirts of their dresses, but they weren't giving up any time soon.

"DREW! Get back here, now!"

"Get  _away_  from me, you  _fre_ –!"

I smacked into something –  _hard._

Head spinning, I felt myself falling when a large, warm hand clasped onto my arm. Blinking, I looked up at what I had run into – or rather  _who_.

_Woof._

He was handsome, I'll admit. Extremely handsome, in fact. His shoulder-length hair was the colour of ebony and framed his perfectly symmetrical features. Somehow, when he'd grabbed me, my hands had tangled themselves with his shirt, and, I won't lie, I could just  _feel_  how packed this dude was.

Someone catch me whilst I swoon.

"Drew?" The guy looked shocked,  _baffled_  really, as if he knew me well enough to be shocked by  _whatever it was that I'd done._  I frowned, but didn't say anything (nor did I remove my hands). His eyes widened almost cartoonishly when he looked down at my attire and he practically jumped away. " _What_ art thou wearing?"

_Again with the clothes._

"Uhh . . ." was my loquacious reply. Because, at this point, what was there to say? I was in a place I didn't know, surrounded by people (I don't  _care_ what they insisted) I didn't know, whom all acted as if my clothes were the most atrocious thing they've ever seen.  _And_  they  _all_ spoke as if they had come from a Shakespearian play, for fuck's sake. Aside from hysterical screaming, there was nothing really I could think to say in a situation such as this.

As the black-haired, good-looking boy continued to openly gawk at me, I heard a multitude of footsteps coming to a stop behind me, followed by several pants for air. Mentally cursing whoever was watching me from above (and plopping me in the middle of this shit storm), I slowly turned around to the same looney girls from before, bent over their knees, inhaling large gulps of air as if they had just finished running a marathon (which was honestly pathetic, considering it was only two hallways and even  _I_ , lazy and unfit Drew, wasn't out of breath).

Frowning, I took a few steps further from them. From the corner of my eye, I could see the boy also backing away from me in disgust, his eyes on my exposed legs.

The tall brunette was the first to recover, standing to her full height and slapping her fists to her hips. She opened her mouth, no doubt to yell at me, when her eyes met with the boy next to me. Eyes momentarily widening, she quickly clamped her mouth shut, the tips tilting downwards, as she regarded him with cold eyes. A heavy silence settled over them, thicker than the uneasy tension in the atmosphere. "Lancelot," she nodded coolly, gazing at him with sharp, distrustful eyes.

Uncomfortably, he shifted his weight, nodding back to her. "G-Gwen."

My jaw dropped.  _Lancelot? Gwen?_ What the  _hell?_

Turning back to me, the brunette– erm, I mean,  _Gwen_ frowned. "Alright, Drew," her eyes were narrowed as she addressed me impatiently. "Enough fun and games. Thou art scaring us."

I almost fell.  _I_  was scaring  _them?_

"Are you seriously serious?" I demanded, because the way  _I_  viewed it, I was the sane one.

The blonde next to Gwen narrowed her eyes, shooting me a particularly nasty glare. "That is it. I am done with thy lunacy." Taking large strides, she stretched out a hand to mine. "Cometh now, we art taking thou to Madam Ainsley and–"

Before her fingers could wrap around my wrist, I sent a sharp slap to her hand, practically jumping away. She sent me an angrily offended look, which I returned with a cheeky grin, "Yeah, thanks, but no thanks, sister."

And with that, my dear readers, I spun around in a random direction, placing one foot in front of the other, broke into a fierce run for the exit, leaving behind their craziness, hair whipping past my–

_Smack!_

–colliding into an unfortunately larger object, sent me again tumbling to my doom. However, unlike last time, no one grabbed me in time to save me from falling onto my ass. Flat on my back, I heard another thump (one that most certainly had not come from me) along with a low moaning, but didn't bother looking in the direction it had come from. No, instead I remained there, on my back, head still pounding, sending many,  _many_  curses to whomever had forsaken me with such horrid luck.

_Alright, God, or Buddha, or Hogwarts, or Beyoncé, or whatever mystique shit that created life,_

_I don't know what drugs I took last night, but I promise to never take them again. Please, with a little cherry on top, could you free me from your punishment, as I have now learnt my lesson._

_Please and thank you,_

_Sincerely, Drew._

Several hands were around me in seconds, wrapping their fingers around my arms and pulling me from the ground. Groaning, I was forced to my feet to meet my fate, to face the sunshine, to fight my demons, to fall to my knees, armour lost, in front of the devil's glowing, mystique eyes as he glared down at me with a Cheshire cat grin stretching–

You know what, you get it.

Opening my eyes, I found myself surrounded by the multiple faces of the crazy girls, each voicing their concerns for my wellbeing. I rolled my eyes, they were acting as if I had just taken a dive off a cliff.

The smaller one slapped a hand to my forehead, all traces of her earlier irritation gone from her frightened eyes. "Are thou ever alright, Drew?" she asked in a worried tone, scanning my face for injuries. "Thou did not hurt thouself, did thee?"

I swear to God, my patience was getting  _really_ thin with their slang.

"No," I snapped, not caring for the harsh edge in my voice. She flinched away, as if I had slapped her, but I hardly cared for her hurt feelings. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not a bitch (to people  _outside_ of my family, at least), but, in my current situation, forgive me for not acting as if there was a rainbow constantly shooting from my ass.

Lancelot stood behind Gwen and stared at me with balled up fists. I gulped, shifting my gaze from his eyes to my feet because  _man_ , could that guy's stare pierce hearts. Frowning, Lancelot turned from me, spinning around to face the root of my earlier descent. "Why doesn't thou watch from whence thy is going, worm?" he demanded, shaking one of his fists in his face.

Biting my tongue, I fought to keep the laughter bubbling in my stomach from escaping through my lips. Was that  _supposed_ to be threatening?

Quirking a brow, I followed his line of sight, where, not two metres from us, sat a lone boy, still on the ground from when I had barged into him. Sweating a little at that thought, I frowned as the boy seemed to ring a bell of remembrance at the back of my mind. Fuck, I'd seen that face before. But where?

The boy himself was a lot smaller then Lancelot and perhaps younger. Whilst Lancelot was muscular, tall and quite handsome, this boy was lanky, short and had a boyish face. Delicate blonde curls fell above his brow, his freckled skin was quite pale compared to the other kids here and his features were cute in a youthful way. Yet his eyes bore such a hard expression; hate and fear both danced in his pale eyes as he scanned each member of the group. However, upon landing on my form, he narrowed his eyes, pressing his lips firmly together.

I gulped. If looks could kill, I'd be  _so_ dead.

Damn, had I managed to hurt him  _that_ bad? I mean, I still had a hangover, and even  _I_  wasn't aching much from that fall.

However, ever the gentlewoman, I opened my mouth to apologise–

My eyes widened.

I  _know_ that boy.

_Holy fu–_

But – no, it couldn't be. There was no wa– but he was  _there._

I blinked, rubbed my eyes, then blinked again.

Looking at the people around me, my jaw dropped. Their faces . . . I was beginning to recognise those familiar faces.

_No. Fucking. Way._

Gwen must've recognised the current strife from the look on my face, because she quickly lay a hand on my shoulder and pulled my face to hers. "Art thou well, Drusilla?" she demanded, frowning with concern.

I stared at her blankly.

. . .  _and recognised her._

Realising it was indeed  _me_  she was speaking to, I opened my mouth to say 'I'm fine', even if it were a lie, but all that came out was a pathetically high pitched, " . . . eeeeeeep . . ."

Both Lancelot and the girls turned to glower at the poor blonde boy, who shrank underneath their glares. "What on earth," Gwen spoke through tightly clamped teeth, "did thou do to her, Pendragon?!"

The smaller black-haired girl sneered in disgust. "Did thou perhaps infect her with thy's sliminess?"

"Certainly would explain her choice in clothing," the smaller blonde muttered under her breath.

But I didn't take notice.

Because it suddenly hit me.

Like a bus travelling at an impossibly fast speed, surely illegally. It hit me like a particularly bad smell. Or a metal bat delivered to my pounding skull.

My eyes were frozen, trained on the poor, unfortunate boy standing not so far from me. It couldn't be– it just couldn't. Things like this just didn't happen.  _Ever._  But–

"Thy's face is turning an abnormally pale shade," someone spoke, I'm not sure whom. "Drusilla, art thou feeling quite well?"

Come to think of it, I certainly wasn't feeling quite well. Maybe the person was onto something. Not only was I beginning to feel the teensiest bit lightheaded, but I'm pretty sure that, at some point, I stopped breathing, because, next thing I knew–

_Thunk!_

"DREW!"

–I had fainted.


	3. Bibbity Bobbity Fucking Boo

This was all Kay's fault.

I don't know what that little booger did, but I was sure– nay, unquestionably certain that the blame could solely be rested on her shoulders. 143% certain, to be specific. I mean, I've seen the growing collection of  _Harry Potter_ along her shelves. It was only like her to develop an interest in witchcraft and come across a spell that would give me delusions that I was a part of the Shrek franchise.

Or perhaps she my tea.

Yeah, that sounded likely. I wouldn't put it past the little runt. She was a sneaky individual, she could definitely pull it off–

Only I hadn't  _had_  any tea. Or any drink. Non-alcoholic, that is.

Hell, I hadn't even properly  _eaten_ before I'd left, so I guess I could just chuck out  _that_ idea.

Okay, so she hadn't spike neither my food nor drink. That didn't matter. She was still behind this – whatever  _this_ was. Maybe she hired  _really_ good lookalike actors and built  _really_ authentic sets. I mean, she was only thirteen, so she didn't have a job (and therefore no money), but I still wouldn't put it past her. As I earlier stated, she was a sneaky individual, she obviously found some other value aside from money to charm several actors into convincing me I was a part of a Shrek movie . . . okay, that sounded more perverted then I intended.

A shudder ran down my spine.

Ew.

Mooooving on.

Maybe it wasn't even Kay who had crafted this world, but rather my subconscious.

I almost slapped myself.

How did I reach that conclusion  _last?_

Of  _course,_ this was a dream.

I mean, I gather I had been drinking quite heavily last night, given I don't remember a thing, so it seemed likely that this was all a dream? I mean, generally, when sleeping after a night of drinking, I don't have dreams, and waking up feels like only a few minutes later, rather than hours. But  _still,_  what other explanation was there?

I mean, I'm no pessimist, but even  _I_  know you can't just pop into random movies. Especially animated ones.

Either way, this was the worst delusion ever.

I mean, honestly, I feel ripped off. Because of all the possibilities,  _this_  is what my subconscious was able to conjure up as my topsy-turvy world?  _Or_  Kay hired actors to portray  _this_  movie? Like, c'mon, if she was really that smart, couldn't she hire them to portray, perhaps, Harry Potter? Hunger Games? Hell, even Stark Trek? I mean, I'm no Trekkie, but I personally have a lot to say when it concerned the homoerotic tension between Kirk and Spock. Even if it were just a dream, I could imagine I'd let off quite a bit of steam by letting lose my frustration at their oblivious natures to their obvious chemistry–

"Man, you think a lot – not in a good way, either."

Jumping, I spun around to where the unfamiliar voice had come from. Upon seeing the person it belonged to, my jaw dropped.

She was hot.

Like,  _extremely_ hot.

But that wasn't the first thing that caught my attention. No, what caught my attention was her white hair. As in  _white,_  no creamy, greyish or even blonde –  _white._  It appeared almost translucent and shone with a blue tinge. It looked like stars had fallen along her nose and cheeks as milky freckles twinkled on her skin, like scattered embers of a burning fire. Her bright blue lips matched her eyes, contrasting against her dark skin.

_Wolf._

Okay, I know that earlier I had come to the conclusion that, sober at least, I was completely hetero, but, honestly, looking at her, I was beginning to question that. Cause  _damn_  was she attractive. Was this my subconscious alerting me that perhaps I had wrongly assumed my sexuality lay with men when really my desire lay with my own gender?

_I mean, I always did have a thing for Daenerys . . . and Kida Nedakh._

In what I assumed to be disgust, the woman wrinkled her nose, eyebrows crinkling. "Oh, Merlin – close your damn mouth!" She barked, voice coarse like fragmented rocks. "Don't you know it's rude to stare?"

I deflated.  _Never mind._

Shutting my mouth, I scowled. "Who the hell are  _you?_ "

Or rather  _what_  was she.

She looked like she wanted to slap me, but, letting loose a breath, cleared her throat, resisting the urge. Straightening her posture, she flipped her hair and placed a hand to her chest. " _I'm_ your Fairy Godmother–"

"Okay," I held up my hand, and, ignoring her startled look, continued, "I'm just gonna stop ya there. Seriously,  _Fairy Godmother?_  Okay, I've already figured this out, this is all a practical joke, right?"

The anger vanished from her face. "Um," she blinked. "What?"

Rolling my eyes, I gave a slow, exaggerated clap. "Alright, you can come out now!" Looking in all directions, I searched for any sign of giggling sisters. But, as I searched the empty room, I realised that clearly Kay had run out of money, or Mum's money, because this set was not  _nearly_ as elaborate as the previous one. Instead of a castle, it was simply a pitch black room, seemingly stretching on for miles, as I couldn't spot a wall, nor a door. However, I was smarter than what my sister gave me credit; obviously it was just a lighting trick, or rather a  _lack_ -of-lighting trick. Really, how dumb did Kay think I was? "C'mon, Kay, you've had your fun, it was slightly – and I mean,  _slightly_  – amusing at first, but it's kinda old now. May as well come out now, I've figured you out, dumbass!"

Like a fish, the woman gaped at me, mouth opening and closing without a singular word coming out.

I continued to search for recording cameras, or the cackling face of my sister, but alas I came across neither.

I rolled my eyes, dropping my applause. Seriously, she was gonna  _continue?_

Finally, the woman managed to utter a complete phrase. "You," she spoke slowly, in a low, bemused tone, "are an  _idiot_."

Turning back to her, I placed my hands on my hips and regarded her silently. Her dress was a peachy shade of pink, with long triangular sleeves and a flowy skirt reaching her knees. The fabric glowed like it was stitched from fire with golden braces adorning her forearms.

Stunned, I let out a low whistle, genuinely impressed.

"Wow, Kay," I spoke loudly, addressing my sister, but keeping my eyes on the woman's clothes. "I don't know  _how_  you hired such neato things, but I'm genuinely offended that, after wasting all this money on a dumb prank, you have the nerve to get me  _bath salts_ for my birthday – with  _Mum's_  money, goddamnit!"

Cause, quite frankly, the fact that she couldn't find the will in her heart to spend more than seven dollars for my sixteenth birthday, yet, two months later, somehow managed to scrape together enough money to hire an  _entire_   _movie set_  for a dumb prank was more than a little insulting.

The white-haired woman heaved forth a large breath, burying her face into her hands. She mumbled something I couldn't hear, but I was able to catch a few phrases. ". . .  _so_  not getting paid enough . . . why . . . charged with  _her?_  Of _all_. . . idiot . . ."

My left eye twitched. "Um, excusez moi, but I find it highly insulting to talk about me whilst I am still in the room."

_And to kidnap teenage girls._

The actress peeked between the gaps in her fingers, examining me for a good few seconds, then sighed defeatedly. "Right, sorry," her apology felt emptier then my bank account after Black Friday. "As I was saying, I am your Fairy Godmother and I heard your wish and–"

"What wish?"

Her hands tightened into tiny fists by her sides. She looked like she was barely restraining herself from smacking me. But, after another calming breath, she continued, in a steely tone. "You wish," she spoke through gritted teeth, "to be a part of Shrek's story."

. . .

. . .

. . .

Under my stare, the woman shifted her weight, clearing her throat again as she looked to the side. "Erm, yes," she continued, "Shrek's story – specially, Artie's part–"

"Alright, Kay!" I barked, turning and scanning the area for that little booger, but coming up with nothing but darkness. "This has gone on for long enough! Get your skinny ass out here so I can kick it!"

"Kay?" I heard the woman repeat softly. Turning back to her, she stared at me in disbelief. "Wait– you mean– hold on . . . Kay, as in . . .  _Katherine?_ "

"Uh," I narrowed my eyes. "Yeah?"

"Katherine . . ." she threw a quick look to the back of her hand, which I realised, was covered in tiny letters written clumsily, "Erm, Johnson?"

" . . . yeah?"

"Wait, hold on," Eyes widening, she pointed a stunned finger at me. "So, you're not Katherine, then?"

_What?_

"No!" Slapping a hand to my chest, I gave an offended look. "Of course not! I'm her sister, Drew!"

Why I was explaining this to the woman hired by my sister was beyond me. But, I realised, if I play along, perhaps it would bring the prank closer to a finish.

"But!" Her eyes were larger then frisbees. "You wanted to get away!"

"What?" I reeled back. "No, I didn't!"

"Yeah, you did! Look–!" Digging deep into her pockets, she pulled out a clunky-looking box, with glowing buttons. I blinked, mind racing, trying to put a name to the unknown item in her hands, but came up blank. Whatever it was looked completely foreign. Downright alien, really. Pressing a finger to a red button on the side, a voice was projected from the box.  _"I wish I could get away for a bit–"_ Pressing the button again, the voice was abruptly cut off.

My jaw dropped. That voice . . . sounded  _exactly_ like mine.

Disbelievingly, I stared at the box in her hand.  _No way._  But hadn't I  _thought_ that? I couldn't recall ever saying that out loud.

Waving around the silver box, she stuck her nose triumphantly in the air. "See!"

I scowled. "To the party! I thought it right after!" Growling, I then paused. "Wait, but how'd you even get that–?"

"Wait," she said, alarmed. "To the party? Whaddya mean?"

I sighed, tiredly. "I  _did_ say I wanted to get away. But I meant to the  _party._ Which I was gonna go to. Right after."

There was a pause.

"FUNCHKINS!" Flinging her hands up, the box slipped from her grasp over her shoulder as she began running her fingers messily through her hair. "I must've gotten the two of you mixed up! Darn, you both just look so alike . . ."

I stared at her.

"That's because," I narrowed my eyes, "WE'RE SISTERS!"

She didn't seem to hear me. Instead, she turned to the box lying at her feet. "I  _told_ Lowen that this  _thing_ wasn't working! But did he listen to me?" Launching her foot forward, she sent the box flying. "NO!"

I watched as the box sailed through the air in a perfect arch and disappeared into the abyss. Turning back to the mad woman, I cleared my throat to get her attention. She either didn't hear or chose to ignore me, because she continued her mad ravings, flinging around her arms wildly as she paced back and forth.

Well, I don't know about her, but I was completely over whatever was happening; whether it be a prank, or dream, I wanted out. "Look," I placed my hands on my hips, "I have no idea who you are, what the fuck you're talking about or what's going on, but I would really fucking appreciate it if you would take me home."

_There. That'd oughta let her – or Kay – know._

"Sorry, sweetheart," Facing me, she wore an extremely irritated look, although I wasn't sure if it was aimed at me or the situation. "But I can't exactly do that . . .  _yet._ "

"Uh . . ." I frowned. "Why not?"

Rolling her eyes, she placed her fists on her hips, and sighed. "Cause I just got done finishing my last row of community service and the boss is already cautious about letting me back on the field again," she pursed her lips, glaring into the distance. "I swear, you mess up a  _few_  people's wishes cause  _they_ weren't clear enough about their intentions . . . anyway, if he finds out that I  _again_  made a mistake, he's never gonna let me forget."

My eyebrows drew together. "Boss? Who–?"

"The Fairy God-Elder," She carelessly waved her hand in the air. "He's like the big guy in charge of us littler fairies. He's a pretty big deal and  _really_ powerful. It's  _seriously_ not smart to piss him off . . . which I might end up doing if he finds out what happened here."

. . . at this point, I had no idea how to react anymore. I mean,  _how_  does one react when they are thrown into a shit storm such as this?

They don't.

 _Alright, this_ has _to be a dream, then. This is much to elaborate for a simple prank._

So, I pinched my arm.

Hard.

"Fucking ouch!" I cried, rubbing the reddening area. That was gonna leave a mark in the morning.

The woman stared at me like I was insane. "What'd you just do, dummy?"

Okay, now I was scared. If this wasn't a prank, or a dream, then what the hell was happening?

. . . was I crazy? Did I have some undiagnosed mental illness that led to delusions such as this? Cause, if so, I'm more then annoyed that  _this_ is the best my subconscious could come up with. Was Shrek  _seriously_ the only thing my repressed mind could throw at me? Ugh, I blame Kay for this. Her watching it last night obviously left an impression in my subconscious, hence my predicament now.

Yeah, now thanks to her, I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere, with this lunatic 'fairy godmother' with no way of waking up.

What luck.

Unless . . .

I froze.

What if the reason I couldn't wake up because . . . I was dead?

I mean, it didn't see like a far stretch. Perhaps, at a party, I'd gotten a little to intoxicated, fallen on something sharp and bled to death.

I cringed –  _ouch._

Not the most charming manner of deaths and certainly not one I'd want to claim as my own. However if it involved something like alcohol, it felt like a possibility.

Well, I  _was_  Australian. How else did I expect to die, anyway?

I ran my fingers over my scalp, checking for any wounds, but all I came across was slight bruising, from when I'd fainted before.

Nothing life-threatening.

I frowned. What was going on?

"You!" I pointed at the woman, who jumped with a look of surprise. "Am I dead? This is, like, hell's waiting room or somethin', right?"

I was particularly sure why I immediately assumed it was hell I was going to, rather than the alternative. But given both my age and recent behaviour, I felt that it was far more likely I'd be on fate's bad side.

For a moment, I pictured myself dressed in a white, silky robe, with a pair of angel wings and a halo sitting atop of my head, singing harmoniously with my harp. I clamped my mouth shut to conceal the giggles. Yeah, right – I was much more suited to that of a devil then an angel.

Red was more flattering on me anyway.

The woman smacked her forehead. "No, you idiot!" she cried, scrunching her eyes shut. "How'd you even  _come_ to that conclusion?"

No? Then,  _what_ was going on?

"Aren't you some type of demon-y thing?"

Looking up, she gave me one of the most annoyed, defeated and piteous looks I'd seen. "No, you thick-headed, pea-brained troll," she sounded like she was close to tears. Of frustration. "Oh my God,  _why'd_ –!" Pausing, she gave some thought to what she was about to say. Then, took a calming breath. "Okay, I guess I can see how you're confused. Fine. I guess I'll attempt a better explanation, then."

_Finally._

"Great," I crossed my arms and challengingly leaned back. "Go ahead, then – I'm  _all_  ears."

Eyebrow twitching, the woman cleared her throat and explained. "Alright, so I'm Lucia, Fairy Godmother extraordinaire, under the service of the Fairy God-Elder, Matthäus . . . he's basically the guy in charge of all the Fairy Godparents annnd the most powerful of us all. He also doesn't like me very much."

I rolled my eyes. Gee, with  _her_  sunny personality, I couldn't  _possibly_ understand why she wasn't liked.

"Hey!" she glared. "I heard that!"

I blinked, confused. Heard what?

Rolling her eyes, she gave me an extremely tired look. "Your thoughts, kid," she clucked her tongue. "You're an especially loud thinker. And stupid."

My jaw dropped. She read my  _mind?_ How was that even possible?

Lucia gave me an irritated glare, but continued. "Anyway, so – yeah, Matt isn't my biggest fan. And I just finished my community service from my last, erm,  _difficulty_ with the business–"

"What'd you do?"

Pink flooded her cheeks and she looked away, her stance stiffening. "D-Does it matter?" She attempted to shrug nonchalantly, but it looked more like a robotic jump. "I-It's not relevant now. But – yeah, I just got done with  _that_ , so he kinda was reluctant to letting me back on the field with everyone else. Fortunately, my uncle is super close friends with him, so he was able to get in a good word about me and get me my job back. So, I was back granting kids their dumb little wishes, when I was landed with the job of Katherine Johnson – your sister."

My eyes widened. Kay? What'd she wish for? She had everything, what more could she possibly want?

"You're telling me, kid," Lucia nodded in agreement. "Anyway, so Katherine was my next client and her wish was, I guess, to be a part of Shrek's story. Artie's part, specifically."

I wanted to bash my brains against a wall.

Of course. Of fucking course. Of  _all_  wishes in the world, of all the endless possibilities, she just  _had_  to wish herself into a Shrek movie. Arguably the worst of the four.

It seemed that I'd greatly overestimated my sister's intellect.

Lucia pointed a thumb over her shoulder, in the direction she had kicked the box. "We have transmitter whatchamacallits – that box you saw – to hear our client's thoughts. Basically, you humans give off waves that those things are able to pick up on and transfer into thoughts, or some bull thistle. We use them to get details down about your wishes."

"But," I tilted my head, "can you just hear their thoughts yourselves?"

Like you'd been doing to  _me._

"We can," Lucia gave another shrug, "but only from a certain distance. As we're in a completely different dimension to you guys, I believe even you should be able to grasp how impossibly it would be for us to read minds across that distance, even for ol' Matty."

I stared in disbelief. Different  _dimension?_

"Anyway," she continued, oblivious to my realisation. "So, since I was  _just_ put back on the job, I was given a transmitter that was pretty old. It must've been switching between the two of your thought waves, which I wasn't aware of. Hence why I sent you, instead of your sister."

I was beginning to feel sick. ". . . dimension?"

The floor beneath my feet was beginning to feel unstable. My stomach squirmed uncomfortably and my skin crawled. I crouched to the balls of my feet, placing my face in my hands.

This couldn't be happening.

This had to be some sort of mistake.

"You bet this is a mistake!" Lucia exploded, flinging her arms around in the air. "I  _told_ Lowen that it looked unstable, but  _no,_  the little pipsqueak was all like–" she lowered her voice to poorly imitate a roguish man, "' _Lucia, it's fine, you're just being overdramatic'!_  Well, guess what, Lowen? It's  _not_ flippin' fine!"

I could barely hear her though.

I ran my hands through my hair, trying to focus on making sense of anything that was currently happening. "This can't be happening," I muttered, "This can't just be happening . . . stuff like this doesn't  _exist."_ '

"Oh, it does, sweetheart," Lucia replied. "And the sooner that  _you_ can accept that, the sooner the both of us can get outta this mess."

I looked up, confused. "Outta this? Can't you just send me back?"

"Not if I wanna keep this from Matt," she replied determinedly. Then shuddered. "And if Matt finds out, he's gonna make  _me_  go through all the paper work, cause technically it was my responsibility to–" she held her fingers up to resemble bunny ears "'–carefully monitor who's thoughts I'm listening to' or whatever – bleh. Trust me, that paper work is  _thorough._ I mean, I remember this one girl that got landed with some from a situation like this, and guess what? Haven't seen her since! And  _that_ was twenty-two  _years ago_!"

I wrinkled my nose. Ew. As if paperwork wasn't bad enough, the thought of paperwork lasting longer than a couple of hours sounded downright brutal, let alone years.

_Even moreso proof to believe you're in hell . . ._

Pursing my lips, I decided to play along. "Okay, then, say I  _was_  to believe this . . . how could I get back? Home, that is."

"Now you're talking!" Lucia snapped her fingers, grinning. "All you have to do is successfully go through the story's motions."

"Huh?"

"Basically," she explained, "you have you finish the story to the very end . . . y'know, happily ever after and all?"

Wait, seriously?

"Erm, that doesn't sound too hard," I blinked, rubbing the back of my neck. "Not hard at all, actually. I can just chill in my room or somethin'. I mean, the movie goes for, what, half an hour? And the time it covers has gotta be, at the most, a couple of days." Standing up, I crossed my arms behind my head and rocked on the back of my heels cockily. "This has gotta be a piece of cake, man, all I gotta do is–"

"Hold on," Lucia held up a hand to my face, effectively cutting me off. Blinking, I looked at her curiously. Clearing her throat, she let her hands fall to the side and gave me a cautious look. "Whatever assumptions you have about how easy this story is gonna be is, well – to put it bluntly –  _wrong._ "

My heart dropped. "Wha–?"

"Look, this isn't like the stories you've heard of from your world, okay?" She continued, eyes carrying a heavy look that resembled concern. "What you've been told is probably not true, nor how the story unfolds. You may somewhat have an idea of who these people are, but do not assume that you know them personally. Not everything is as it seems."

I frowned. "Huh?"

She sighed, rubbing her temples. "Look, um, you know the game, erm, Chinese whispers, right?" Seeing me nodding, she continued. "Well, the point of the game is to pass on a whisper to different people, one which will become distorted the more it's passed on, yeah? It's like that. I'm not sure how you know of Shrek's story in your dimension, but, however that version goes, expect it to be quite distorted to how it actually goes. That version of him and this world that you're all familiar with isn't like the real one, okay? Remember that, before you're in a children's story, you're always in a completely different time period."

I stared at her as my brain tried to formulate an appropriate response. But all my mind could do was replay traumatising event from brutal shows like  _Game of Thrones_ or  _Vikings._  It felt ridiculous to compare fictions such as those to an animated movie from  _DreamWorks_  produced more than ten years ago. But, after hearing Lucia's firm warning, my mind was spinning quickly with my deepest fears.

Finally, I grasped the ability to speak again. "Look, uh," I tried grinning, "as long as this won't be a repeat of  _Shrek is Love, Shrek is Life,_  I'm all good."

Because in no way was that a lie.

She sighed and took a minute to properly scan my face, searching for any sign of distress in my features. Pursing her lips, she took a step closer and grasped my shoulder with a surprisingly gentle hand. "Look, I'm not trying to scare you or anything," she said in a soft voice. "I just don't want you to underestimate anything . . . you're involved yourself in the story, it's gonna have changed remarkably. Regardless of how you play, your presence has already changed things. For better or for worse, I don't know . . . it's Artie's story. The story won't end until the crown is safely placed on his head. But this world is so different to the one you're familiar with. It's brutal and, as a result, a constant threat will hang over his life."

I was silent as I allowed the meaning behind her words to sink in.

Then, like a lightbulb, I understood her implications. "So, what you're saying is that," I shivered, "Artie can actually  _die_?"

Grimly, she nodded. "Yeah, kid. It's a harsh world."

"But can't Shrek protect him?"

Because essentially I was beyond useless in a fight. I mean, I still got teary over paper cuts, there was no way I could protect this kid against whatever it was that threatened him.

However Shrek was a pretty good fighter. Not as capable as Fiona or quick as Puss, but still a force to be reckoned with. Of all things, I doubt  _that_  had changed from my world. Not after how far he'd come since the first movie.

Lucia's hands fell from my shoulders to her side. "Yeah," she gave a casual shrug/ "When he gets here, that is."

Excited, I grinned. "That's great! So, when's that?"

"Dunno."

"Where is he?"

"Dunno."

". . . will he be getting here sometime this month?"

". . . dunno."

My jaw dropped. "Um, what? You're telling me that he could just show up whenever, which essentially could be  _months_ from now?"

"Sorry, kid," she gave me an apologetic smile. "I'm not allowed to know too much about the story I'm putting my client through, otherwise I might interfere and not let them learn from their experience."

"That's so dangerous!" I burst, flailing my hands around. Because, um,  _hello,_  dumping essentially children into a story they had little knowledge of seemed remarkably stupid to me. God forbid, but what if one wished to meet Katniss Everdeen? I can't believe I'm about to admit this, but I'm actually grateful that Lucia mixed up Kay and I. Having her run around in a world like this did not sit well with me at all.

"So's my boss!" She retorted, mirroring my actions and flinging her hands into the air. "Anyway, since neither of us really want to be in this situation for any longer than necessary, I can help you a little when I can, but that won't be much, kid."

I blinked, then frowned. "Why?"

"If I keep helping you, I may get caught," she explained. I rolled my eyes. To be honest, I really couldn't say I cared if she was caught when it was  _my_ life being placed on the line.

It was because of her that I was being forced to roleplay in the first place. I mean, I'd never personally roleplayed before, but I'd assume I wasn't incorrect in calling this that.

Actually, speaking of roleplaying . . .

"Um," I placed my hands on my hips. "Those girls – Gwen and everyone – they all acted like they knew me. Like, they knew my full name and everything. I take it I'm no newcomer, yeah? So, who am I?"

"Ah, right," she nodded her head in recognition. "Yeah, because, I guess, you're my client, therefore apart of the story, I had to squeeze you in somehow. You're one of Gwen's friends, daughter of some noble lord somewhere, I dunno. I was in a rush, so I kinda just made up some bull-poppy. You'll figure it out. Any more questions?"

I scowled at her.

"Yeah," I spoke challengingly through gritted teeth. "What happens if I decide _not_  to play?"

Because her attitude was beginning to get on my nerves.

Her eyes suddenly became hard-rimmed as they met mine in a fixed stare. I gulped, taking a step back. "Don't," she growled, "If you do, then you'll remain in this story. Forever."

My heart sunk deep into my soul.

Her words were so hostile, her voice so low, that all I could do was stare open-mouthed at her. My mind was frozen, along with my voice. Glancing to my toes, then back up to meet her cold eyes, I stuttered, "U-Uh, righto . . . cool, then."

Her eyes seemed to soften upon realising how shaken I was. Shoulders slumping, she drew a deep breath, reaching deep into her pocket. "Right, sorry, just – don't do that, kay? It won't help anyone involved."

Hastily, I nodded.

Satisfied, Lucia pulled out a long, white stick the size of her forearm. I blinked, unsure if what she held in her hands was what I thought it was. Clucking my tongue, I asked, "Um, is that a–?"

"Yup," she answered shortly, before pointing the wand an inch from my face. "Okay, is there any more questions before I send you back?"

Dread crept over me, chilling my soul with it's breath. My feet felt light, but my head felt heavy. I wiped my clammy hands on my jumper, but that didn't stop the shaking.

It was a simple question. Really. Was I ready? To play this game of roleplay, to see my family again.

Truthfully, no.

However, I knew I had no choice.

I locked my teeth together and nodded my head determinedly.

Nodding her head in acknowledgement, she muttered something under her breath before tapping my nose with the wand.

The wave of dizziness was instantaneous. Mind swirling, my breath became short and shallow. Nausea crept along my mind as black began clouding my vision. I could almost feel the colour draining from my face as I lifted a trembling hand to my damp forehead.

Staggering back, my legs finally gave out as I felt myself falling into a dark embrace.

However, before I lost consciousness, one familiar thought ran through my head.

_Kay, the fuck did you get me into?_

**Author's Note:**

> I hope Drew's character didn't come off as TO bratty. I mean, don't get me wrong, Drew is very self-centered and lazy, but she's not a bad person and I hope that she didn't come across like this in the FIRST CHAPTER. Ugh, tell me if she's to unlikeable and I'll work on it. In fact, REVIEWS make me work hard as a bumblebee - so if y'all are interested in what happens, just send me a review and the next chapter will be sent even quicker!
> 
> By the way, no offence to anyone who likes the fourth movie, but I for one hated it. The third was okay but UGH, I HATED the last one. Anywho, thanks for clicking on my story and giving my story a chance! Hope y'all enjoyed it! Next chapter will actually feature Drew waking up in the . . . I dunno, wherever Artie lives!
> 
> PEACE OUT!


End file.
